


Atonement

by Dr_Roslin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben loves his mom, F/M, Fluff, No Pregnancy, Rey Needs A Hug, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, Soft Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Roslin/pseuds/Dr_Roslin
Summary: This is pure fluff and my first Star Wars piece (be gentle), spun out of my mind as I walked home one day and realized it was Valentine's Day and that was the reason for all the flowers. Modern AU, obviously. Rey enjoys people watching and enjoys seeing a very large, very attractive man with a soft smile and a large bouquet of flowers on his way to the train.Who is waiting for him on the other end of the train trip? And what could this man possibly have done to make him feel the need to bring them these gifts?
Relationships: Leia Organa & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	Atonement

Rey was an unrepentant people watcher, always had been. She lived too much in her head, always had. That's what she'd always been told, that she needed to pay more attention to her studies and less time wool gathering.

She couldn’t help it. People were fascinating. They just were. Unpredictable and adorable and stingy and mean and unbelievably generous. Sometimes, drinking her coffee in the pale light of morning before heading in to work or while walking through a busy street, she imagined their lives or their days or the nature of their relationships.

One thing that never failed to amuse her was the slightly panicked look of shoppers, men, in particular, rushing to buy something, anything, the day before a major holiday. Christmas, Mother’s Day, Easter. Any day the expectations were clear, the calendars were marked and yet, the last minute panic was unavoidable. Valentines Day was the best, obviously, the look of pure panic on the faces of last-minute shoppers making her smile despite her better nature.

She couldn't help but smile. Maybe it just made it easier to pretend that might one day be her, waiting somewhat irritably at home for a man with a large heart, a clueless soul and a questionable memory. One day. It was nice to dream, after all.

There was a special sense of wonder on day when gifts were not prescribed, when she would notice someone, especially a man, walked - purposefully or shamefully as the case may be - through a crowded walk with an arm full of flowers. Whereas most would have been charmed, Rey’s mischievous nature never failed her. Unerringly her brain defaulted to one question and one question alone.

‘Dude. What did you do?’

Every single time.

The bigger the bouquet, the more she wondered. What could they possibly have done that would call for floral bouquet that ornate, that large, that expensive? And would it be enough? To get them out of the over-sized dog house they were clearly living in.

So it was little surprise that the laughing genie in her head had no end of amusement, one snowy afternoon as she headed into her train station, at seeing the biggest arrangement of flowers she’d ever seen tucked into the crook of the left arm of an adorably gangly man. A ridiculously large stuffed bear, with what looked like insanely cuddly tan plush and an adorable green bow tie, was tucked under his right. By all rights the flowers and the bear should have dwarfed the poor man, but his stature was such he pulled it off. At least six-two and solidly muscled with it, his shoulders took up more of the horizon than she should be comfortable with, and to his credit, his expression was more stoic than abashed.

He was the only person she’d seen that afternoon burdened with gifts, and she was struck with the incongruity of it. Even if it were Valentines Day, this would be extreme.

As she accidentally finds herself following along in his wake, the speculation reaches a fever pitch in her mind. Who are the gifts for? And what could he possible have done to be seeking that much absolution?

He's tall, this man, with jet black hair and the pale skin, he would stand out in a crowd even without the extravagant gifts he carries. He’s someone you notice. As she gets closer to where he's standing, waiting for his platform to be called, she notices his face, which is far from handsome but striking nonetheless, his warm brown eyes his best feature, set off by a sizable nose and a barely apparent, wry, lopsided grin. _Oh my God, his ears are adorable, and adorably large_. By no rights should this man be handsome, but she can’t stop staring, wondering at the fates who have granted some lucky girl the glory of his love.

She has to walk by him to get to her platform, providing the perfect opportunity for her to act on her questionable urges. Walking as close as she dares, she manages, despite her practical winter boots, to strategically ‘trip’ and... fall directly into him.

He manage somehow, to juggle the flowers and the bear and her, somehow also manages to set her gently back on her feet. Looking up into his face, she notes he has close to a decade on her, as well as 8 inches. Still. That small smile simply lit up a piece of her. A small, or not so small, part of her ached in response, and the ache settled in to claim a part of her.

 _Not for me._ She knew she simply wasn’t the type to earn the joy of a having the love and devotion of a man like that. Shaking it off, and murmuring a quiet apology, she turned to be on her way, though she was unable to resist turning and flashing him a grin so wide it hurt her face.

As he'd put her gently back on her feel, she’d seen the writing on the card protruding from the cellophane wrapped around the bouquet. Below the straightforward dedication pre-printed on the store-provided card (I'm sorry), she’s seen the simple additional salutation, written in a remarkably masculine hand.

‘Mom.’


End file.
